


Yellowstone

by xBlackxRosexRebellionx



Category: Yellowstone (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:47:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22292809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xBlackxRosexRebellionx/pseuds/xBlackxRosexRebellionx
Summary: Emery Dutton, John's youngest child, comes home for the holidays. Her family is still as dysfunctional as ever, and she is faced with several challenges during her time at home. She realizes that, despite the time and distance that separated her from the ranch, her feelings for Rip still haven't faded. But Rip is still pining after her sister, despite the fact that Beth only seeks his presence when she needs someone to do her dirty work or she needs someone to slake her lust. Her sister's animosity for her still lingers, though she never has figured out why Beth despises her so much. Her oldest brother, Lee, is still the ever obedient soldier to their father, following his every command and making the rest of the family look like a bunch of degenerates. Jamie is still trying to clean up after Beth and Kayce's messes in a desperate attempt to finally win their father's approval. Kayce hasn't visited the ranch since she left for college because he and her father can't even stand in the same room without it leading to a bare-knuckle brawl. And her father seems moodier and more distant than ever, piquing her interest and causing her to wonder what, exactly, it is that he's hiding from her and the rest of the family.
Relationships: Rip Wheeler/Original Female Character
Comments: 48
Kudos: 84





	Yellowstone

**Author's Note:**

> Emery’s coming home for winter break and John tries to get the family all together. Emery is forced to face the fact that her feelings for Rip still haven’t faded. Rip sees Emery in a rather compromising position and, now, he can’t unsee it. And Kayce, Jamie, and Beth struggle with the decision of whether to come home for Christmas or not.

**_This story takes place before the events of season one. I chose to do this for several reasons. I wanted to explore the different dynamics within the Dutton family, including the original character I’ve created, and how they all fit together. I also wanted to explore John’s illness in more detail. It’s pretty obvious to see that this is a broken family, all of them struggling with their own inner and outer demons. This is a very complex family system, and I didn’t want to shy away from that. But I also had to find ways to keep the story as busy and interesting as the show itself is, so I found myself trying to come up with different situations for the Duttons to deal with from chapter to chapter. This is what I came up with…_ **

****

**_Yellowstone_ **

** Chapter 1: Coming Home **

John Dutton hung up the phone, a smile tugging at his lips. But that smile quickly faded as he realized that he still had three more phone calls to make. And he dreaded those three phone calls. As much as he hated to admit it, no one was harder to deal with than his own family.

He sighed, scrolling through his phone and selecting one of his contacts.

Jamie picked up on the third ring, answering, “Hello?”

“Your sister’s coming home,” John announced.

“Beth?” Jamie questioned.

John shook his head, rolling his eyes, and replied, “No, your _other_ sister.”

“Emery’s coming home?” Jamie inquired.

“Well, Christmas is in one week, so yes,” John retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Unlike you and Beth, Emery _always_ comes home on her breaks.”

Jamie was silent for a moment.

“Are you gonna make it this year?” John hinted.

Jamie sighed and John knew what his answer would be before he even opened his mouth.

“Dad, with all of this shit Kayce’s in right now…” Jamie started, “I’m up to my eyeballs in shit. I don’t know how I’m gonna get him out of this one.”

“I’m sure Emery would love to see you,” John said, “We’ve spent the past two Christmases by ourselves.”

“Dad… I can’t –,” Jamie tried to explain.

“Can’t or won’t?” John prompted.

“Dad…” Jamie sighed, obviously struggling to find the words he was looking for.

“She’s your _sister,_ Jamie,” John insisted.

“I know,” Jamie replied, “But –,”

“Let me tell you what you’re gonna do,” John instructed, “You’re gonna get your happy ass on a plane and you’re gonna fly down here to the ranch and you’re gonna spend Christmas with your fucking family, Jamie. Because, whether you like it or not, we’re still your family.”

Jamie was silent for a long moment and John started to wonder if he’d hung up on him.

But then Jamie spoke again, sighing into the phone as he agreed, “All right.”

“Like I said,” John reminded him, “I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

Jamie laughed at that, joking, “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to admit that you miss me.”

But, rather than laugh at his son’s horrible attempt at a joke, John simply replied, “That’s where you’re wrong, son. It just might.”

Jamie Dutton sat in silence, shocked by his father’s response. But, when he realized that the other end of the line was silent, he pulled the phone back from his ear and stared down at it, realizing that his father had hung up on him.

He sighed, tossing his phone onto the coffee table and bringing both hands up into his hair as he rested his elbows on his knees. He knew he didn’t have any other choice. He had to go. Apparently, Christmas at the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch wasn’t optional this year.

It wasn’t that Jamie didn’t enjoy his little sister’s company, because he genuinely did. But, ever since Emery had gone away to college, Jamie had always dreaded going to the ranch for any reason, avoiding it at all costs. It just wasn’t the same without Emery there. Their _father_ wasn’t the same without Emery there.

And it was then that he realized it. Emery had always been the glue that had held the Dutton family together since their mother had died. She was the piece of the puzzle that had always held the rest of them together and, when she’d left for college, everything had started falling apart. Kayce had left the ranch. Beth had lost her shit. And their father had started taking everything out on Jamie since he was the only punching bag that was still around, the rest of his siblings having left the ranch and gone their separate ways.

Jamie sighed. While he’d like to believe that things would be different this year, that Christmas might actually go over smoothly for once, he knew that those days were long gone. They’d died with their mother. And the forced smiles and subdued tension had left when Emery had walked out that door to go to college. Gone were the happy days and joyful laughter. But, like they always said, misery loved company.

John sighed, knowing that he still had two phone calls to make, one to Beth and the other to Kayce. Lee would be easy to convince to come home for Christmas. But he dreaded calling Beth. Still, it had to be done. He wanted his family to all be under the same roof this year because, this year, he had something to tell them.

He sighed once more, staring up at the ceiling and sending up a silent prayer, before finding her number in his contacts and pressing Send.

“Yes, daddy?” she answered on the second ring.

“Beth, I need you to come home this year for Christmas,” John started right in, not beating around the bush.

“Daddy, I can’t,” she told him, “We’re right in the middle of a big project here at work and I can’t just walk away from this one –,”

“Beth, your brother gave me that same speech,” John informed her, “And do you know what I told him?”

“To go fuck himself?” she guessed.

“Close, but no,” he answered, “I told him to suck it up and get his sorry ass on a plane, which is _exactly_ what _you’re_ gonna do.”

“Daddy –,” she started.

“I’m not asking, Beth,” he interrupted her, “That’s an order.”

“Yes, daddy,” she finally agreed.

“Good,” he said, “Because we’re having a family meeting this year. And that’s not negotiable.”

With that, he ended the call, closing his eyes for a moment before he stared up at the ceiling. He reached up with one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, where he felt the start of a headache creeping in.

How the hell was he going to tell them?

Rip Wheeler was just heading over to the round pen with a couple mugs of coffee, one for his boss, John Dutton, and the other for himself, when he heard his boss’ voice drift back to him.

“Hey, Rip,” John addressed him from over his shoulder.

“Yes, sir?” Rip inquired, passing one mug off to him when he reached the fence.

“Emery called me last night,” John informed him, “She’s done with classes ‘til after the holidays. She said the rest of her homework can be finished and submitted from here on the ranch.”

Rip just chuckled, shaking his head, and replied, “Now you know as well as I do that she’s already got that shit done and turned in.”

John laughed too then, nodding his head and agreeing, “You’re probably right.”

They both lifted their mugs and took a long pull of the hot, dark liquid.

“Some days I think she’s the only one in this fucking family that’s got her head screwed on straight,” John commented.

That prompted a laugh from the seasoned ranch hand.

Rip had been John’s right-hand man, ranch foreman, and head of the other ranch hands, for several years now. He also acted as John’s enforcer when the circumstances called for it. He’d spent the past two decades working towards that position, slowly earning the trust and respect of the man he’d come to consider a father.

“Well, I’d have to agree with you on that one,” Rip chimed in, “But Jamie didn’t turn out too bad.”

John scoffed at that, shaking his head, then he changed the subject.

“I need someone to go pick her up, move her stuff back home here,” John told him.

“Not a problem,” Rip assured him, “I’ll take a couple of the boys with me.”

“I wouldn’t ask, but I can’t count on anyone else,” John sighed, “Beth hasn’t been home for eight years now, but it wouldn’t matter anyway. She can’t be relied on for anything…”

Rip knew just how true those words were.

“Kayce won’t step foot on the ranch,” John continued on.

“And Jamie?” Rip questioned.

“Shit, Jamie’s up to his eyeballs in Kayce’s latest mess,” John told him, “He’ll be lucky if he knows his ass from his elbow by the time he gets done sorting that shit out.”

Rip couldn’t help but laugh at that. Leave it to Kayce to go and fuck everything up. The boy meant well, but he’d never really been much of a thinker.

“All right,” Rip agreed with a nod, “What time do I need to be there?”

“Well, she always was an early riser,” John said, “Even when she went off to college.”

Rip nodded, joking, “You can take the girl out of the ranch, but you can’t take the ranch out of the girl.”

“Tell me about it,” John sighed, taking the last sip of his coffee and handing the mug back to Rip, “I’ve tried. That girl’s got too much of her mother in her.”

Rip chuckled, shaking his head, and countered, “Or her father.”

“I still haven’t decided which is worse,” John mumbled as he walked away, heading for the ranch house.

Rip sighed, his eyes finding the sky. It was a clear morning, not a cloud in sight. But where the Duttons were concerned, there was _always_ trouble.

Rip walked into the bunkhouse, letting the door slam behind him and hollering, “What the fuck is this?! It’s 6:30, boys! Get those asses up and moving! The horses aren’t gonna feed themselves, are they?!”

The newbie, Jimmy, nearly fell right out of bed as he practically jumped right out of his skin.

“Jesus, Rip!” he cried, clutching at his chest as he struggled to calm his racing heart.

“Asses and elbows, ladies! That’s all I wanna see!” Rip ordered, “Jimmy! Lloyd! You’re with me today, so get your shit and be ready in fifteen minutes!”

“But –,” Jimmy started to protest.

Rip turned around to point at him, growling, “Fifteen minutes, Jimmy.”

“Yes, sir!” Jimmy said with an energetic nod.

With that, Rip walked out of the bunkhouse. He’d barely made it out the door when he started laughing, shaking his head. He hadn’t quite figured out yet if the newbie would survive the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch. Hell, when he’d first branded the kid, he didn’t know if he’d even last a _week_ on the ranch. But John had been very adamant about Jimmy getting a second chance after Jimmy’s grandfather had come to John in confidence, explaining that Jimmy wasn’t a bad kid, he’d just come from an unfortunate family – and Rip knew all about that. Jimmy was three weeks in now though, and he was starting to get the hang of things. He showed potential, if he could just stick it out, and he’d accepted the brand when several others had passed it up.

“Fucking punk,” Rip muttered to himself, shaking his head as a grin stole across his face, “I’ll make a man out of him yet.”

Emery Dutton groaned, rolling over to steal a peek at her alarm clock.

8:37 peered back at her in angry, red numbers. But that wasn’t what had woken her up.

She listened, quiet and still, as she waited for it again. And then it came, the loud banging on the door. She heard one of the other girls she lived with open her bedroom door and pad barefooted across the kitchen linoleum to go answer the front door.

It was easy to hear the voices through the paper-thin walls there at the townhouse she lived in there on campus at Jericho University. And the low, rumbling voice she heard inquiring about her whereabouts was a very familiar one, one that always had her heart constricting in her chest as if it had been placed in a vice and squeezed tight.

That voice was what sent her into a panic, flinging the covers off of herself and rolling out of bed. She hurried over to her desk chair, pulling her folded jeans off of it and dancing her way into them. She’d just gotten them buttoned when she heard the door of her bedroom being pushed open.

A gasp tore from her lips as she glanced up to find none other than Rip Wheeler standing just outside her bedroom door, his jaw falling open as he realized that she was half-naked. Emery froze on the spot, feeling her chest, neck, and face flush a bright shade of red. When Rip’s brain finally caught up to their current situation, he was quick to cover his eyes and yank the door closed again, mumbling a quick apology.

“Christ, I’m sorry, Em!” he hollered from the other side of the door, “You’re always up early. I heard you moving around, and I just assumed…”

“Just… Just give me a minute!” she yelled back, hurrying over to her dresser to find a bra to pull on and then making her way over to the small closet there in her room to locate a sweater.

Oh, my fucking God! Rip Wheeler had just seen her bare breasts!

Emery couldn’t even process that information. She’d spent the past seven and a half years pining after her father’s loyal right-hand man, trying – and failing _quite_ miserably – to get up the courage to tell him how she felt about him. But how the fuck could she when he was always so wrapped up with Beth and her latest – and most desperate – cry for attention? And yet, all of that had changed when Beth had moved away to the city, leaving Rip and the ranch behind. For the past eight years now, Beth hadn’t stepped foot on the family ranch. Beth’s departure had left a hole the size of Texas in Rip, left him in this hollow, emotionless state that had caught Emery completely off guard. He was always so stoic, so calm, so cool and collected. Except for when Beth was concerned. Then, he was a hot fucking mess, desperately scrambling to fix her, to come rushing to her aid. The man would’ve set himself on fire for her, and she wouldn’t have pissed on him to save his life. But that was just Beth Dutton for you, leaving a string of disasters behind her wherever she went with no concern for the recourse.

Emery tugged on a soft, woolen, gray sweater and went to fetch a pair of socks to tug onto her feet before she took a deep breath to steady herself and went to open her bedroom door.

And there he was, the man she’d ached for since before she even knew what love was, the man she’d spent all these years yearning for and, though he’d never know it, even saving her virginity for.

Her cheeks couldn’t have been any hotter, her ears even burning as a bright blush colored them.

“Sorry,” she murmured, her green eyes finding the floor as she moved to one side and gestured with her other hand for him and the two other ranch hands she’d just noticed to enter her room.

“No need to apologize,” Rip told her, and she could’ve _sworn_ that she’d seen the slightest hint of color in his cheeks, “I shouldn’t have barged in. I should’ve knocked first.”

She laughed at that and shook her head, asking, “When have you _ever_ knocked, Rip?”

He chuckled at that, looking around the room, and she asked, “Daddy send you?”

“Sure did,” he answered with a nod.

“I guess Jamie’s busy cleaning up another one of Beth’s messes then?” she inquired, not bothering to hide the sarcasm that laced her words.

Rip flinched a little at the tone of her voice and the implication behind it, but he was quick to recompose himself.

“Not this time,” he told her, “This time, he’s cleaning up after Kayce.”

“Imagine that,” Emery muttered, rolling her eyes, “I love him to death, but Kayce was never really much of a thinker.”

“You can say that again,” Rip agreed.

“I love him to death, but Kayce was never really much of a thinker,” she repeated, a slow, crooked smirk curling at her lips when she saw the ranch hand grin at her and shake his head.

“You’re something else, sweetheart,” he teased.

Her chest squeezed at the endearment, but she was quick to remind herself that he didn’t mean it, not really.

“So I’ve been told,” she retorted before moving to stand beside him and looking around her bedroom, “So… Where do we wanna start?”

John pulled the cinch tight, patting the gelding’s stomach firmly as he instructed, “Suck it in, old boy.”

John knew his favorite horse’s habits like the back of his hand. The chestnut gelding had been born and raised right there on the ranch. He was 12 years old now, and John had learned every one of his habits, the good and the bad. He knew that the gelding would nudge at his pockets every morning, trying to stick his muzzle inside of John’s coat pockets in search of the treats he knew were hiding in there. He knew that the gelding stamped his feet when he grew impatient. He knew that the gelding got colicky if he ate too much alfalfa – which was a damn shame because he’d never known a horse that _hadn’t_ liked alfalfa, and his gelding was no exception (hell, he’d eat just as much as he was allowed to). He knew that the gelding came from a long line of barrel racing ponies but that the gelding himself just didn’t have the speed for it, leaving him better suited for ranch work instead. And he _certainly_ knew that the gelding puffed his tummy out when someone tried to put a saddle on him.

He walked the gelding around in a couple circles there in his stall, waiting for him to relax, before he bent to adjust the cinch once more.

“There,” John said, straightening up and patting the horse’s neck, “That’s better.”

He grabbed the reins and led the horse out of the stable.

Once he was by the round pen, he stopped, lifting one foot to place it in the stirrup, and swung himself up into the saddle. With a nudge of his heels and a couple kissing sounds, the gelding was moving.

There was nothing more relaxing than taking a ride around the ranch. It gave him a little time to himself and soothed his frayed nerves when life got to be a bit too much.

As he rode along, John kept his eyes on the fences, checking to see if any of them needed mending or if there were any gaps wide enough that a calf could slip through. It was December 17th, and it was oddly warm for it being the heart of winter there in Montana. Usually they’d had three feet of snow already by this point. But John knew it was coming. Winters were always rough in Montana. No matter how mild it started, sooner or later, it was bound to catch up to you.

John’s ears picked up a sound in the distance and he stopped, reigning in his horse, to listen. He waited a moment before he heard it again.

“Shit…” he muttered, kicking his horse in the flanks and prompting him into a gallop.

As John drew closer to the source of the sound, he his hopes plummeted. He’d been hoping to find a calf that had simply gotten separated from its mother, a calf that had managed to squeeze its way out of the fence and was simply lost, searching for its way home. But John’s luck never seemed to pan out that way.

His father had once told him, “John, if it wasn’t for bad luck, us Duttons wouldn’t have _any_ luck.”

And John had come to believe it over the course of his life.

John sighed, coming to a stop just ten feet away from the injured calf. How it was still alive, he had no idea. It was bleeding from the neck, having been grabbed by the jugular vein, as the teeth marks indicated, and one of its hind legs was severely mangled. The wounds were still fresh, and he took a moment to search his surroundings.

He found them standing just at the tree line, a pack of timber wolves. It looked like there were four of them, maybe five, just watching, eyeing him with their heads hung low.

John heaved a sigh and reached back behind him for his shotgun.

He looked down at the calf, mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

Then he pointed the barrel at the calf’s head and pulled the trigger.

It didn’t take them nearly as long as Rip had imagined to get all of Emery’s things loaded up into the two duallies. Rip had made Jimmy ride back with Lloyd, which, at the time, he had thought was a great idea. But, after being confined to the cab of the truck with his boss’ daughter for the first fifteen minutes of their journey in complete silence, he was starting to seriously regret his decision.

He _still_ couldn’t seem to shake the image of the youngest Dutton girl’s bare breasts from his head. She was nothing like her sister. That was for _damn_ sure. While the girls were the same height, Beth was all legs, long and slender. Beth had small but perky breasts, leading down to a hint of ribs and a slim waist before arriving at her narrow hips and her tight ass. Rip had been sniffing after her for _years,_ chasing after her like a dog after a bone, desperately hoping for just a taste of what she could give him. But, Emery… Well, he’d seen a part of Emery Dutton that he’d never imagined he’d see. And now, he couldn’t _unsee_ it. And that was a problem.

The girls were as different as night and day. It didn’t take a fucking rocket scientist to see that. Where Rip looked at Beth like a toothpick, so fragile and dainty, and he always afraid that he’d break her, Emery was built like a woman. She might have only been 21, but Emery Dutton had curves that would have given any man whiplash. It was easy to see why so many boys had drooled after her in high school. But as soon as they’d learned her last name, they’d turned tail and run for the hills – the smart ones had anyway. The dumb ones – or the ones that had thought they were brave enough to handle her – had had Kayce and Rip to deal with.

Emery Dutton was the spitting image of her mother. From her wavy, dishwater blonde hair to her big, green eyes to that stubborn, independent, “take no shit” attitude, she was all Evelyn Dutton. Beth was more like their father, wiry, ruthless, a scrapper, while Emery was almost always level-headed, a thinker, a bright young woman who could do anything she set her mind to. But, like her father, she had a fierce determination and, once she’d made her mind up about something, it was easier to move a fucking mountain than sway her opinion. She had a love for horses that only her brother Kayce shared with her. Animals had _always_ been her weakness, which had led to many lectures from her father or even Rip himself over the years.

But, while Kayce had always been Evelyn’s favorite child, it didn’t take a magnifying glass to see that Emery was John’s. Whether it stemmed from her inheriting her mother’s looks or the fact that she retained quite a bit of her father’s personality, Rip wasn’t sure. But one thing Rip _did_ know was that John Dutton would have his balls if he ever caught him with his youngest daughter. Beth was one thing. Beth could handle herself – and any man that had the balls to get in bed with her. But Emery… Well, Emery was _far_ too innocent for that. Hell, she’d never even brought a boy home to meet her family! Emery Dutton was the very definition of the word “pure”. She had a pure heart and Rip was 99% confident that she had a pure body too.

But, try as hard as he might, he just _couldn’t_ seem to get the image of her standing there without a shirt on out of his head. Her breasts were large, probably a 36C, and, unlike her sister, Emery had a little meat on her bones. She might have had an hour-glass figure, but Emery had an extra ten or fifteen pounds that her sister didn’t. Her hips flared and those jeans had hugged her thighs like a second skin, leading down to her long legs. And when she’d turned around to hurry for her dresser in search of something to cover herself, Rip hadn’t missed the sight of her ass in those jeans. God love him, Rip had always been an ass man. And Emery Dutton’s had put the rest of them to shame. Her ass was ample enough he could’ve filled his large hands with it and still left a little to spill between his fingers. Her cheeks looked round and firm in that tight denim, making him want to follow her into her room, lock the door behind him, and bend her over her fucking desk.

Rip nearly jumped right out of his skin when her soft voice jerked him harshly from his thoughts.

“I’m not gonna lie. I thought you were gonna kill the newbie,” she informed him.

Apparently, she hadn’t missed the threat that Rip had growled lowly at the new ranch hand from outside her bedroom while she’d been trying to find some clothes to pull on. Rip had given Jimmy the firm warning that he would “remove one of his appendages if he ever caught him looking at her again”, gesturing to his crotch so that there was no doubt as to which one he was talking about, and it was a warning he didn’t think the kid would be forgetting any time soon, if the panic-stricken look on his face was any indication.

Rip chuckled, shaking his head, and said, “I don’t think it’s me he’s gotta worry about. Your dad ever catches him looking at you like that, and he’s a dead man.”

Emery laughed at that, nodding. She didn’t even try to deny it.

“So, what did I miss since Thanksgiving break?” Emery asked.

“Well…” Rip sighed, “What did your dad tell you?”

“Oh, please!” she huffed, “Does he ever tell me _anything?”_

Rip nodded at that, gazing out the driver’s side window for a moment before he told her, “He does it to protect you, Em.”

“All my life, he’s been trying to protect me…” she muttered, “I’m starting to wonder if he’s ever going to let me grow up.”

Rip gave a single snort of laughter and chided, “Careful what you wish for, sweetheart.”

“I’m 21 years old, Rip,” she countered, “I’m not that wide-eyed, three-year-old little girl anymore. I’m not a baby. I’m a woman.”

She had no idea how right she was, and he’d be smart to forget he’d ever seen the proof. But women had always been Rip’s weakness.

“I hate to break it to you, Em, but you’re _always_ gonna be his baby girl,” Rip stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

And it wasn’t just a reminder for her, but also for him. John Dutton would beat his ass if he ever caught Rip fucking his daughter. How the hell he’d never caught Rip with Beth yet was still a mystery, considering the amount of times those two had fucked each other. But, to Beth, that’s all it would ever be, a quick, hard fuck to satisfy the itch and then she was on her merry way without a second thought or even a glance back over her shoulder at him.

What he wanted was Beth, all of her, not just her pussy for fifteen or thirty minutes. He wanted her _heart,_ her _love,_ her _affection._ But sometimes, Rip wondered if she even had a heart or if it was just frozen after years of keeping it closely guarded. Beth didn’t love _anybody,_ not her father, not Emery, not her brothers, and _certainly_ not Rip. Hell, she didn’t even love _herself,_ and Beth Dutton had _always_ been Beth Dutton’s top priority. So, it was safe to say that she didn’t have an affectionate bone in her body.

But something told Rip that Emery was _very_ different. He had a feeling that, when Emery fell in love, she would love with everything she had. She would love shamelessly and selflessly. And Rip knew that he would never be good enough to fill that role. But that wouldn’t stop him from wanting to knock whoever the lucky fucker was out – although, he’d settle for knocking his teeth down his fucking throat.

Emery sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and gazing out the passenger side window.

Rip wasn’t a fool. He wasn’t giving her any information that her father didn’t give her himself. And she must have understood that because she chose to remain silent, staring out the window as the world passed them by.

When she finally broke the silence once more, she reached out to turn on the radio, informing him, “Well, if we’re not gonna talk, I’m gonna listen to the radio.”

Rip bit his lip to keep from opening his mouth, waiting until she’d settled on a station, and her choice in music took him by surprise.

“Rough Boy?” he asked, his dark brows furrowed.

“I’ll have you know ZZ Top is one of the greatest classic rock bands in history,” she retorted.

“Since when?” he questioned.

“Since ever,” she replied, “The only song better than this one is Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton.”

His brows rose at that. He’d never pegged her for a classic rock fan.

The surprise must have been quite evident on his face, because she hinted, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Rip.”

And she was probably right.

“But it doesn’t matter…” she trailed off, gazing out the window once more.

But that was where she was wrong. With her being John Dutton’s youngest child – and the only one that would be residing at the ranch unless the others decided to grace the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch with their presence at some point over the holidays – it was his responsibility to watch over her and ensure that she was safe during her stay there at the ranch. He was the only one that John trusted enough to assign that task to. And it was a job that he took very seriously.

And, while he would never admit it, something told him that the next thirty days would significantly impact the way he looked at the youngest Dutton sibling. Whether it was for better or worse? The jury was still out on that one.

_What in the world’s come all over me?_

_I ain’t got a chance of one in three_

_Ain’t got no rap, ain’t got no line_

_But if you give me just a minute, I’ll be feelin’ fine_

_I am the one who can fade the heat_

_The one they all say just can’t be beat_

_I’ll shoot it to you straight and look you in the eye_

_So gimme just a minute and I’ll tell you why_

_I’m a rough boy_

_I’m a rough boy_

_I don’t care how you look at me,_

_Because I’m the one and you will see_

_We can make it work, we can make it by_

_So give me one more minute and I’ll tell you why_

_I’m a rough boy_

_I’m a rough boy_

Truth be told, Emery liked the song Rough Boy because, in a lot of ways, it reminded her of Rip. Rip had always been there while she was growing up, a steady presence there on the ranch, but he’d never quite been attainable. And, if she was honest, she didn’t know if he would ever be, not for her anyway. All he’d ever been able to see was Beth. Hell, the man had spent his _entire_ life desperately seeking attention, seeking praise, from one person or another – her sister, her father, probably even his own parents at one point before that life had all come crashing down around him.

It wasn’t hard to see that Rip was a starving man, starved of attention, starved of affection. And yet he never really got it. Beth only went to him when she was craving a good, hard fuck, when she needed someone to take it out on. And Rip happily provided that for her. But the moment was always fleeting, her interest waning with her aftershocks, and, one would assume, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. But how could it ever be anything but unsatisfying? That was what Emery just couldn’t seem to wrap her head around, how he always came running to Beth’s every desperate cry for attention, selflessly giving her everything he had, only to be left wallowing in the insults she threw at him in return.

And God knows she loved him, but her father was no better. Despite the fact that Rip had spent two fucking _decades_ cleaning up after her father’s messes, Beth’s messes, Jamie and Kayce’s messes, John Dutton had never quite looked at Rip as he had Kayce or Lee – or even Jamie for that matter. It was heartbreaking really, watching him work his _ass_ off for even a _shred_ of approval while her father somehow seemed to think that the sun rose and set in Kayce’s ass, despite all of the messes that he’d left for his father to clean up. There had never been anyone more loyal to her father than Rip Wheeler. And there never would be. She was sure of that.

But all Rip Wheeler would ever see her as was a little sister – and that was if she was lucky.

Monica Dutton heard the shouting clear in the trailer, quickly catching her attention and prompting her to tell her son, “Tate, stay here, baby. Mommy’s going to go outside for a minute.”

“What’s going on, mom?” he asked, “Why is dad yelling?”

“I don’t know, honey,” she replied, “But I’m going to go find out. You stay here, okay?”

Tate sighed but nodded to his mother.

Monica pulled open the front door, stepping out onto the porch as her eyes found her husband.

“No, I’m not –,” Kayce started to say, shaking his head as he paced back and forth in front of the round pen there on his property at the reservation, his cell phone pressed to his ear.

He was apparently cut off by the person on the other end of the phone because he practically growled, kicking up dust as he kicked a bucket that sat beside the round pen.

“Goddamn it, would you just fucking listen to me?!” he screamed into the phone, “I said I’m not going. The ranch is no place for my son.”

He was silent for a moment, his chest rising and falling rapidly in his anger as he brought one hand up to run his fingers through his long hair.

“No, _you_ listen to me,” he snarled, “You lost your right to see that boy the _second_ you told me to take his mother to the clinic and make her get an abortion.”

Monica gasped, one hand flying up to cover her mouth, and Kayce’s attention was jerked away from the phone, his wild, hazel eyes finding her dark ones.

“Monica, go back inside,” Kayce told her, though his tone was softer now, his eyes softening slightly as he gazed at her, “I’ll be in in a minute.”

She heard shouting from the other end of the phone before Kayce spoke again.

“You have _no_ right to call yourself my family,” Kayce informed the person on the other end of the phone, who Monica now realized was his father, “Monica and our son are my family.”

He was silent for a moment before he shook his head, insisting, “The ranch is not my home. It hasn’t been for ten fucking years. The reservation is my home now. The people here are more loyal than the ones you call your family have ever been.”

He sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and stating, “We’re not coming and that’s final. Now, I promised my son I’d take him out for a ride while his mom fixes lunch, so I’ve gotta go.”

There was a brief pause before Kayce snapped, “Do yourself a favor and forget about that grand idea you have of getting to know your grandson. You lost that privilege a _long_ time ago. You were the one that told me to stay gone, remember? So, do me a favor and lose this fucking number.”

Monica’s dark brows hiked up her forehead at that. She rarely saw this side of her husband. He was usually a pretty subdued man. But where his father was concerned, his temper flared. The “Dutton Temper” was what Jamie had called it the one time he’d called Monica in an attempt to get a hold of his brother.

She was drawn out of her thoughts as Kayce stalked over to the trailer.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he apologized.

But Monica shook her head, asking, “What did he want?”

“Emery’s coming home for winter break,” Kayce informed her, “He wants us to come out to the ranch so we can see her before she goes back.”

Monica gave a slow nod. She closed her eyes, sighing. She knew he wasn’t going to want to hear it, but it needed to be said.

“She’s your sister, Kayce,” Monica told him.

“Doesn’t matter,” Kayce said, shaking his head as he turned to rest his back against the wooden frame around their small porch.

“It _does_ matter,” Monica insisted, “She’s the only one in that family you’ve ever cared for, the only one you’ve ever had anything nice to say about. She’s only home for a few weeks and then she’ll be going back to college and you’ll lose your chance. It’s not _her_ fault your family’s so dysfunctional.”

Kayce sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing his gaze on his dusty boots.

“I know…” he finally admitted.

“Then don’t take it out on her,” Monica told him, her voice gentle, “She loves you, Kayce. And I’m sure she’d like to see you while she’s home.”

Kayce nodded, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair once more, and agreed, “I’m sure she would. He tried to use that against me, tried to guilt trip me with it, saying that, if nothing else, I should at least come out to the ranch to see Em while she’s home.”

“I hate to say it, Kase, but he’s right,” she agreed.

There were tears in Kayce’s eyes when he finally looked at her, and Monica was quick to close the gap between them and cradle his face in her hands.

“He reminded me that we’ve already lost my mother…” he rasped, struggling to get the words out, “He asked if I wanted to push away the only other person that’s always cared about me.”

Monica’s jaw clenched at that. How _dare_ that man speak to his son like that.

“Kase, we’re not doing it for him,” she stated in a matter-of-fact tone, “We’re doing it for Emery. She’s your sister, and she’s a sweet girl. Your dad still hasn’t tainted her yet. It’s not too late to try to let her know that it’s not _her_ you’re upset with.”

Kayce nodded at that, replying, “I know. I just… The ranch is no place for our son. It’s just gonna turn into a shit show, and I don’t want Tate to see that.”

Monica was silent for a moment, thinking, before she suggested, “We could leave him with my grandfather. He always loves visits with Tate.”

But Kayce shook his head at that, fixing his eyes on his boots once more, and Monica recognized that steely look of determination on his face. Sighing, she reached up to brush a stray tear away from his eyes.

She patted him on the chest before turning to walk back inside, calling back over her shoulder, “I still think we should go.”

Rip decided to stop around 11:30, giving them a chance to stretch their legs and grab a bite to eat. He’d given Emery the honor of choosing where she wanted to eat, and he’d been quite surprised when she’d chosen McDonald’s, of all the places.

When the four of them had gotten their food and slid into a booth at the back of the restaurant, away from prying eyes and listening ears, Emery had caught him off guard, her green eyes finding Jimmy as she asked, “You like pickles, newbie?”

“Yeah,” he answered, his brows furrowing, “Why?”

“Here,” she said, pulling the bun off of both of her cheeseburgers and peeling the pickles off, “You can have mine.”

Jimmy accepted them with a nod and a smile, placing them on his own sandwich, and Emery inquired, “So what’s your name, newbie?”

“Jimmy,” he replied, “Jimmy Hurdstrom.”

She nodded at that, lifting her cheeseburger up to take a bite.

She thought for a moment, chewing, before she questioned, “So, you like working on the ranch, Jimmy?”

Jimmy laughed, informing her, “Well, I’ve never done anything like it before. But I’m learning. I’m just glad I got a second chance, you know?”

Rip watched as Emery nodded slowly, taking a sip of her drink before she asked, “So you’re a branded man?”

Jimmy’s smile fell, but he nodded his head, looking down at the empty wrapper in front of him as he chewed his food.

“Sometimes, we all need a second chance, Jimmy,” Emery stated in a matter-of-fact tone, prompting all three of the ranch hands to fix their eyes on her.

Rip tilted his head slightly, watching her closely. Where, exactly, was this little conversation going? 

Jimmy nodded to Emery, and she pointed a fry at him, adding, “But in all the years I’ve lived on the ranch, I’ve _never_ seen a branded man leave that ranch.”

Jimmy’s eyes grew wide at that, and he jerked his head around to look at Rip, who just stared him down.

Rip didn’t know where she was going with this, and he was genuinely surprised when she concluded her speech by saying, “It’s simple really. The ranch is like a family, Jimmy. You do right by them, and they’ll take care of you. You do what they ask, and you’ll always have a home there. If there’s one thing you’ll come to learn about the Dutton family, it’s this: they’re all a bunch of degenerates. They’re no different than you guys. The only difference is, they’ve got friends in all sorts of places to help bail them out.”

Rip’s eyebrows nearly reached his hairline at that. What she’d said might have been true. But what confused him was the fact that she hadn’t included herself with the rest of her family.

Jimmy just stared at the youngest Dutton sibling, his mouth hanging open, and Rip leaned forward to smack the back of his head, ordering, “Shut your mouth, Jimmy, or you’ll catch flies.”

Jimmy’s mouth snapped shut with audible _CLUNK_ and the rest of the group returned their attention to their food. The rest of their meal went smoothly, Emery sharing small talk with the low-man and directing the occasional question at Lloyd. But she wouldn’t let her eyes meet Rip’s. Hell, she wouldn’t even speak to him! And he wasn’t quite sure if it was because of him walking in on her while she was getting dressed back at her townhouse or if it was because of the fact that he refused to share her father’s business secrets with her, but he knew one thing: he didn’t like it.

The two-hour drive back to the ranch was pure torture. Emery hadn’t spoken a word to him, choosing instead to focus her attention on her phone or staring out the window. When they finally arrived at the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch, Emery was quick to hop out of the truck and run over to her father, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tight. Rip caught a glimpse of John planting a kiss to the top of his daughter’s head before Rip started unloading things from the truck.

“So… What did you learn this semester, Em?” John asked his youngest daughter.

“The only thing you learn in college is how to bullshit people, daddy,” she replied, “And if you can do it with a smile and make them believe it, you pass.”

When had she gotten so cynical? Rip never remembered her being like that before she’d left the ranch for college.

But John just laughed, chuckling, and agreed, “I suppose you’re right, honey. I suppose you’re right.”

Rather than let Rip, Lloyd, and Jimmy do all the work though, Emery had insisted on helping pack her things into the ranch house.

He wasn’t surprised to discover that John hadn’t touched her room, choosing to leave it just the way it was before she’d left for college three and a half years ago. Nothing was touched, everything having been left exactly where she’d put it, that way she could find it when she came back on her breaks – something that neither Beth nor Jamie had ever done when they were away at college. But what _did_ surprise him were the posters that were hung up on the walls. Gone were the horses and rolling hills and pretty autumn scenery and, in their places, the walls now sported pictures of some ugly thing called Rob Zombie, a shirtless, tattooed man with long, dark hair and a beard that boasted the words “Today I don’t feel like doing anything, except Jason Momoa. I’d do him.”, and some cross-bow slinging guy named Daryl Dixon. When the hell had those posters changed? And, more importantly, when had _she_ changed?

“No way!” he heard Jimmy cry, “You like Rob Zombie?!”

Emery just laughed, replying, “Yeah. I still say some of his music was better back when he was in White Zombie though, before he went solo.”

Jimmy looked clueless for a moment, inquiring, “He was in a different band?”

“Yeah,” she answered with a nod, “When he split from White Zombie, his drummer, John Tempesta, followed him.”

“No shit?” Jimmy questioned.

“No shit,” she confirmed, “I have a couple of their CDs if you wanna borrow them sometime.”

Jimmy was just opening his mouth to reply when John cut him off.

“Don’t encourage her,” John told the new hire, “It’s bad enough she listens to that angry white man music. She doesn’t need a partner in crime.”

That brought laughter from everyone in the room as Rip carried the mini fridge over to set it under the desk there in the bedroom.

Emery crawled under her desk to hook the mini fridge up to a power cord, calling back over her shoulder, “You call my music ‘angry white man music’, but classic rock was no different back in the day.”

Rip swallowed hard, seeing her perfect, round ass on display in those tight-fitting jeans, forcing himself to focus his gaze somewhere, _anywhere,_ else.

“Besides,” she added, _“Everyone_ needs a partner in crime.”

“Yeah, yeah,” John said, waving her off as he turned to fix his gaze on Rip, “You got this?”

Rip nodded to his boss and John clapped him on the shoulder on his way out of the room.

“So, what other bands do you like to listen to?” Jimmy inquired as he carried the box he was holding over to set it on her bed.

“Oh, I listen to a little bit of everything,” she told him, “Puscifer, Linkin Park, Adema, Avenged Sevenfold, Thirty Seconds to Mars, Halsey, Nickelback. Hell, I even listen to Florida-Georgia Line.”

“Wow,” Jimmy said, “So you listen to metal, pop, rock, _and_ country music?”

“Like I said,” she confirmed, “I listen to a little bit of everything.”

Jimmy gave a slow nod, a grin stretching across his face, and Rip chose that moment to intervene, instructing, “All right. You two can talk about this shit later. We’ve got two trucks to unload.”

Emery turned her gaze on him then, tilting her head slightly as she studied him for a moment, her green eyes roaming over his face as she tried to read him. But, rather than question him, she simply nodded, turning and heading out of her room.

As soon as she was out the door, Rip focused his attention on Jimmy, narrowing his eyes and pointing at him as he warned, “You watch yourself, Jimmy. John Dutton catches you sniffing around after his daughter and no brand in the world is gonna save you. You got me?”

Jimmy’s eyes grew wide and he swallowed hard, but he gave a jerky nod, lowering his gaze to the floor, and headed out of the room to go grab another load of Emery’s things.

Rip heard Lloyd chuckling from somewhere behind him and turned to ask, “What’s so funny, old man?”

“Those are some good words of advice there, Rip,” Lloyd said, “I’d take them if I were you.”

Rip’s brows furrowed and he questioned, “What are you talking about?”

Lloyd only laughed harder, shaking his head and walking over to clap Rip on the shoulder as he leaned in closer, murmuring, “If I didn’t know better, Rip, I’d say you were jealous. But the Rip Wheeler I know doesn’t _get_ jealous.”

With that, he left the room, leaving Rip to stare at the floor with his hands on his hips. Rip sighed, reaching up with one hand to remove his Stetson and bringing his other hand up to run his fingers through his dark curls.

_“Shit!”_ he cursed.

Emery headed out the stables, leaving the moving to Rip, Lloyd, and the newbie. She’d unpack later. What she needed right now was a good ride. And, while she’d like nothing more than for that to involve one Rip Wheeler, she knew that that would never happen. Instead, she would just have to settle for her favorite past time there on the ranch.

There was nothing a good, long ride around the ranch couldn’t fix. There was something so calming, so relaxing about being in the saddle, feeling the strength, the raw power, of the animal that moved beneath her. It was like the stress just melted away, the tension falling from her shoulders with every steady sway of her hips across the leather seat of her saddle.

She didn’t know where she was going exactly, but she found herself there before she realized it, having lost herself in her thoughts as she rode along. It was a place that she went to often when she was searching for answers, when she was seeking solace, when she needed a place to clear her head. It was a hill overlooking the entire ranch. The view was breathtaking, especially with the surprising amount of greenery that still coated valley and the pine trees looking as lush and green as ever. Usually this late into December, everything was coated in a thick layer of snow.

She lost all track of time as she sat there, just staring down at the ranch, her mind replaying the past four months that she’d been away at college. She knew something was going on. She just couldn’t figure out what. Her father had seemed even more withdrawn than usual, even more distant. He was quiet. And nothing good ever came from John Dutton being quiet.

Her ears perked up at the sound of approaching hooves and her brows furrowed. No one else knew about this place. Who the hell had followed her?

Her blue eyes found the trail that her own horse had taken, watching as another horse broke through the trees and into the clearing. She breathed a sigh of relief upon discovering that it was her dad’s old, chestnut gelding, Yankee. She still remembered him teaching her how to ride on that gelding. He’d sworn that it was the only horse he trusted her safety with there on the ranch.

But Emery had gotten a horse of her own five years ago, a black and white Walkaloosa stud. Her father had told her when she turned 16 that she was old enough to own and take care of her own horse. The ranch hands – and even her father and her brothers – had all teased her at first when she’d brought the yearling colt home.

She’d gotten him at an auction, where he’d only gone for $100, due to his scrawny appearance and lack of a proper pedigree. He was a half breed, a grade horse, and nobody wanted to take a chance on him. But Emery had seen the potential in him. Unlike most of the other people at the auction, Emery had been trained to have a keen eye when it came to horses. She knew her way around a horse and their anatomy, knew what to look for in a horse’s conformation. The colt had been all legs at the time, a bit gangly, but there was no mistaking the smooth, shuffling gait of the Tennessee Walker when that colt had started to trot around the ring. While he was long in the legs at the time, he also had a good, solid conformation, sturdy feet, a strong, arching neck, a short but sturdy back. He was perfect, and she’d known then that she had to have him.

She’d spent two years training that colt and, though her father would never admit it, he’d been impressed – a little tidbit of information that had slipped from Rip’s mouth one day while he was watching her work with the colt in the round pen. The colt had spirit, and he would only allow one person to ride him – the very person who had trained him. But that colt had grown into a strong, sturdy, reliable stallion – a stallion that Emery hoped to one day use to start a new line of spotted, gaited horses. That stallion was the best damn trail horse she’d ever seen, possessing the smooth, ambling gait and the sure footedness of the Tennessee Walker but the stamina and hardiness of the Appaloosa.

What had once been a scrawny little runt of a colt was now a 15.3 hand tall stallion with an excellent conformation, a fierce determination, and a smooth gait that allowed his rider to withstand riding all day long without getting uncomfortable in the saddle – a trait which many of the men on the ranch had come to envy her for. In fact, Koda, as she had come to call him, was no longer the laughingstock of the entire ranch. Now, everyone envied Emery for having such a well-trained, reliable, agreeable horse. And he had the most beautiful Appaloosa pattern Emery had ever seen, boasting a black face and neck with his bold, black leopard pattern spattered across white shoulders, down onto his back and stomach and stretching onto hind quarters. His legs, clear up to the insides of his flanks, were black as well and his bicolored mane and tail, unlike the typical Appaloosa’s, was thick and wavy, hinting at his Tennessee Walker side of the family tree.

As her father approached her, she could see the smile stretching across his face. But the look in his pale eyes told a very different story, as did the tension in his shoulders.

He reined his horse in beside hers and let his eyes roam over the valley below them. He was silent for a long while before he finally gave a sigh.

“Your mother used to come up here,” he told her, “I’d find her here when she wasn’t in the house or out in the stables. She’d come up here to clear her head. Hell, sometimes I think she came up here just to get away from everything. It was our little secret.”

He stole a peek over at her, a wry smile curling at his lips as he added, “I guess it’s our little secret now.”

Emery nodded at that.

John sighed once more and she opened her mouth to say something, anything, to try to help the situation, but he beat her to the punch, speaking first as he informed her, “You remind me so much of her. You’ve got her eyes, her smile, her laugh. You’ve got all that blonde hair and that feisty temper of hers, that same stubbornness and fierce determination. God, you’re almost the spitting image of her. There are some days I wonder if she didn’t just clone herself to make you, if I even had any part in creating you.”

He laughed at that and Emery shook her head at him, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“But then you open that mouth and start cussing like a sailor or you threaten to beat somebody’s ass and I’m reminded that you’re just as much a part of me as you are of her,” he stated.

Emery giggled at that.

“I’m glad you’re home, Em,” he finally concluded, “This place just hasn’t been the same without you.”

While he wasn’t a man of many words, what he’d just admitted spoke _volumes._ And his next revelation shocked her speechless for a moment.

“I’ve missed you, Em,” he confided, though his eyes gazed off in the distance.

He was showing a side of himself that she’d never seen before. He never opened himself up like this, never left himself vulnerable – not for _anyone._

“I’ve missed you too, daddy,” she replied, “But I’m back now. You’re stuck with me for the next 30 days. And, after that, I’m only gone for another five months. Then, I’ll be home to stay, so you’d better get used to it.”

He chuckled at that, shaking his head, before giving a nod of his head towards the way they’d come and prompting, “Come on. Let’s get back. It’ll be getting dark in an hour, and we don’t wanna get caught out in it.”

She nodded at that, though she got the sense that he wasn’t telling her everything. But she nudged her stallion in the flanks with the heels of her boots and made a couple kissing noises, prompting him into a walk.

Her father was right. The last thing they wanted was to get stranded in the woods in the middle of the night.

****

** Lyrics from the Song: **

_Rough Boy_ by ZZ Top


End file.
